


ephemeral dream

by brynhildvelvet



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Aesthetic Scene Porn, Akira in dresses, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Study, Dirty Dancing, Ensemble Cast, Fluff, Gen, Post-Canon, Ren In Dresses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-20 15:47:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15537591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brynhildvelvet/pseuds/brynhildvelvet
Summary: Short fics focusing on the Persona 5 protagonist, everyone's favorite Nasty Crime Boy. Most are post-canon except #4.1. dagger: akira hangs onto memories of his past life.2. name: through the eyes of an outsider, just who was the delinquent student, anyway?3. in the club: ren is a hoe on the dance floor.4. you can now quick travel to the cat café: lots of love and feel-goods for akira.5. a lovely trickster: ren amamiya and the tale of wearing skirts, dresses, and a kimono with his friends. (akeshu only at the end)





	1. dagger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: brief mention of self-harm
> 
> post-canon where akira spends his third-year in his hometown.

There was one more thing Akira needed to do when he was saying his goodbyes. 

With some of his remaining money, he bought back one of his favorite model daggers from Iwai, the parrying dagger, sleek and silver, with the barest amount of ornamentation to give it a refined edge. 

While he had the more powerful one he made from Satanael, this one is more of this world, more grounding, but still a sign of his other self, of Joker.

So he had two gifts from Iwai, the dog tags, but also, the dagger.

“I never understood what you did with those models, kid…” Iwai sighed.

Akira smiled ambiguously back, unwilling to divulge.

They clasped hands and clapped each other on the back when saying goodbyes. Iwai tipped his hat at him and Akira saluted him one last time. Before he started his journey home, loaded with only memories and mementos warmed with well wishes.

* * *

 

The summer was hot, the air stifling, but never more than when he was with his parents or classmates.

Over the past couple of months, Akira had accrued a good list of places to be alone in his hometown. People had not reason to look for him and he them, preferring to keep away from their judging eyes.

This time it was an abandoned shopping mall on one end of the town. A chain-store relic that eventually had given in to the charm of mom-and-pop stores the townspeople refused to give up. That was one thing Akira used to appreciate, now soured by old people’s proclivity for gossip.

The weed overgrown parking lot he treks across was slowly becoming familiar to him. As Akira watches the ground below his feet, he wonders if the memories of this place can replace the ones of his real life cell.

The sun beats down on his back, and behind his head the empty blue sky rose up with nothing to pierce it, not like in Tokyo. The building up ahead was the tallest one in the town.

To enter it he simply ducked through a half-open door. No shadows will greet him here.

The mall is not all too large, but blessedly empty and dark, with gaping holes in the ceiling that let aesthetically pleasing sunlight beam down. The first time he was here, Akira had snapped some photos for Yusuke.

When they first found it, he and Morgana explored it together, wandering the halls with its broken in glass fronts, dangling electric wires, glass cracking and avoided on the ground, greenery sprouting through spindling lines on the floor. This time, Akira is alone, Morgana out exploring somewhere else, to be caught up with later. Akira figured he wanted some time alone today.

His legs dangle in the air off a ledge and he’s got his dagger out. Akira may not be as limber as he was in the Metaverse, imbued with Arsene’s spirit and exuding confidence from his sharp grin and crimson eyes, but his hands are still dexterous.

Back and forth his dagger spins. From a forward grip to a backward grip, snatching it out the air, balancing on his finger, twirling impossibly fast before he grips it still again, ready to strike. The heft of it is comforting, the fighting stances he takes up to fight imaginary enemies calls to when he soared through the air for the first time, the red sky against his back, leaping up on a shadow’s shoulders to reveal its inner demon.

He continues fiddling with it as he stares up at the heavens through the giant hole in the ceiling right in the center of the place. His vision is filled with the sky ringed in black. Akira feels like he was at the bottom of a well. His mind drifts again to those thoughts of, just how far had he fallen?

He used to be able to call the spirits of olden heroes to his aid. He had the dreams and wishes of humanity in the palm of his mind. He was the king of the Metaverse and the Metaverse was his palace, in a way, he was a ruler, a ruler, a ruler, and could have been a _god_ -

Instead, he was strapped down, tied to a chair. Those days he was alone in that dark room, in solitary confinement, he wished that he had died and been forgotten, perhaps to wander the halls of lore.

He wondered if he would be called up by humanity to save them again, if he was worth that much to anybody.

Akira wishes that the knife in his hand was real, to hurt or maim, whether it was himself or shadows, he could not decide. He didn’t care anymore, anymore, anymore, as long as he could get that feeling _back_. Somehow, to escape the prison of his mind, to be able to fly free again.

As his mind spirals down and down -

As he yelled aloud and screamed into the silence. This is how people make palaces, when they become inhuman -

Humanity did not deserve what he did for them, they deserve to grovel at his feet. He had a code of honor no one else could hold, in the end he alone stands above them all.

Even if he has no one, he has himself, his Joker, that freed him from his chains, but -

There _would_ be someone that cared if he was gone. Right?

He sits there staring at the sky with empty eyes, the loneliness, the hopelessness, washing through him in waves. Can he really do this alone?

The darkness is creeping up on him. Akira is a small, colorless blotch in this cracked, blank landscape. Where was the red that matched him? The blood that flowed through him?

He needs to remember his friends, his connections, that’s what he did all of this for, isn’t it? Akira has to remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the idea was protag playing around with a dagger in his hometown
> 
> I imagined the mall he's in to look a lot like this while writing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zov7PEXdVZk
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated!


	2. name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more post-canon, the "she" isn't so much a self-insert character as a generic female student with a teeny bit of kindness (but not enough guts)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> basically a very self-indulgent excuse to talk about how pretty the protag is

They were there, she knows it.

When they came back, all of the students and teachers tried to make sense of them, nail them down.

They were a blight on the school, same as how they were at Shujin when they went to Tokyo. If they were incomprehensible when they left a year ago, they have become even more so to the people of the town, to their own parents.

Rumors follow them throughout the school like an invisible, trailing cape. As the school year wore on though, the students just started ignoring them. Turning away from the infamous delinquent if they approached them, only begrudgingly acknowledging them when needed.

No one knows the delinquent that well. It got to a point where she was unsure what they even look like. Like the others, her gaze habitually slides away from them. She didn’t look directly at them for fear of an unknown pain, like how one does not look directly at the sun.

They could have been a mirage for all she cared.

The first time she gets clear look at them is during a spell of torrential rain.

After buying some ice creams from the convenience store as a mood lifter, she sees the delinquent sitting underneath one of the awnings outside the store, reading a book. The rain made visible ripples on the ground, drops flying high after hitting the ground, but they stayed dry tucked away in a little alcove, which she swears she never noticed before.

As she stood by the doorway staring transfixed, she realized that, of course that alcove existed. From the corners of her eyes she always glimpsed it, but while she was rushing away to go home, or work, or wherever she needed to after leaving the combini. It's just like those stories she heard as child, where things remain invisible to one's mind until something, or _someone_ forces them to face it. 

As the visage of it came clear in her mind, the red-white striped awning, the odd wooden bench underneath, so did they. Their head bent low, book clasped in their lap, legs pressed together and slanted to one side. A shoulder bag leaning against their side. They paint a placid, gentle image in the grey rain surrounding them, reflected with the gentle expression on their face.

She felt the grip of curiosity hold her, so she takes a few steps closer and calls out across the rain-strewn pavement between them,

“Why are you out here?”

They look up in surprise. Their eyes take her in.

“What do you mean?” they said in their low voice.

Furrowing her brow a little, she replies, “Why would you read out here in the rain, when you could be anywhere inside?”

“Oh. I just…,” they look away for a moment, gazing into the downpour with eyes, she notices startlingly, are the same color as the rain. “I got used to reading in cafes and diners, and there aren’t any around here willing to let me sit for hours and read so…” They looked back her and shrugged, a small smile on their lips.

"O-Oh, I see..." 

She got the answer she wanted, but did not know what to do with it. A little embarrassed at her boldness, she hastily excuses herself, wishing them well with their reading, that she’ll see them in school, even though there was no chance she’ll be caught speaking to them in front of her friends - 

She walks away fast enough that she splashes through puddles, but she almost pays it no mind. Their image remains in her mind. They seem content, happy, although they may not have friends, they are able to engross themselves in books for hours, apparently.

(But they prefer the rain outside and not their own home. While they seem content, it still looked lonely, the smile on their face did not seem to be real, but there to appease her.

There was something deeper to be explored.)

But, she has her own problems to take care of, she did not have time to care about some lonely classmate. _She_ still got lonely sometimes too, even with all her friends--

So she left them. All she had was their smile on their face, curling up vaguely like a kitten's, as she walks away. 

* * *

“Why are you out here?”

She doubt she was the only student to see them. But she was the only one bold enough to approach them, after making sure no one else was around.

They turned to look at her, and laughed a little, “You like asking that a lot, huh?” They asked teasingly.

Before she could reply, they turned back and said quietly, “I noticed no one was taking care of them, so I asked the school if I could and they agreed.”

She peeked past their bent over form and saw “them” was a vast collection of humongous pots, all brimming with water and blooming lotuses.

“You like gardening?”

They hummed.

“Believe it or not, I picked it up while I was in Tokyo. It's… cathartic, to take care of something else and watch them grow into something beautiful.”

Cupping one of the large blooms that was almost eye-level to them in one hand, they had that little smile again looking at it, and then -

She wishes she had a camera, or she was an amazing painter. Just to be able to transform these feelings into art because.

They look at peace. And quite angelic actually. The twilight casts their hair in hues of orange and red along the edges. Surrounded by the elegant white and soft pink lotuses their black curls look so _soft_ and ethereal. The bright and light colors bloom along the slope of their nose down to their jaw and all along their neck.

She’s frozen, staring for too long, until they pull softly away and turn to regard her, their hands slipping into their pockets. Dark eyes inquisitive. 

"I didn't expect that they would, but..."

“They suit you.” She chokes out.

“Thank you, I guess.” Tilting their head a bit, slouching further.

Then with a wry smile, "That sounds better than what people usually say about me in this town."

She... doesn't know what to say. She can't _agree_.

Eventually, she turns around and goes home after bidding them goodbye.

Even if she wants to know them better, it does not feel like she has the right to. Not when she does not have the courage to acknowledge them in front of others. Always a little too scared.

* * *

 

On the day they graduate she goes to seek the delinquent out.

When she finally finds them, slightly out of breath, they are sitting on a bench underneath the cherry blossom trees lining the western entrance to the school.

Stray pink petals rain down slow, nestling into their hair. She breathes in sharply and almost chokes as she’s hit with a feeling of deja vu.

They look up and spot her, taking in her disheveled state. “Were you looking for me?”

“Well, yes. You’re returning to Tokyo, right? I may never see you again. I just - had to -.” She blows out a breath, trying to gather her thoughts.

“You could have made it easier to find you, you know.” She settles on, still miffed that they hid.

They huff a quiet laugh under their breath. “Low chance anyone else would be looking for me. I wanted to make you work for it.”

They have a quirk to their lips and she marvels at the expressions she’s collected of them. Doubtful anyone in the school has seen as much.

They gesture. “Come over here would you?”

She takes the few steps over. They pull out a rectangular card from their school jacket and hand it to her.

“If you’re ever in Tokyo, you can find me through this.” They tap it.

She glances at it, sees digits and an address, and looks back to them, taking in their face fully for perhaps the first time ever. And maybe the last time for awhile yet.

Clear gray eyes, almost coquettish eyelashes looking up at her the way they are, a pale, sharp face, and rosy lips. A beguiling face, at once pretty but deceivingly normal. The curls messy but perhaps artful for it.

She nods. “I’ll make sure of it.”

They nod in turn, getting up and walking past her, letting one hand brush her shoulder in goodbye.

She watches them go, memorizing the image of their back for the first time. She realizes that in the past, she was always the first to walk away. Just like her classmates. Then flips the card over to see what is on the other side. It’s an exquisite picture of a sunrise, the yellow and red brilliant against the dark blue sky, the magenta in between like a dream. She can only guess they took it themself.

A symbol of new beginnings, a cleanse of the guilt she's felt this whole year ever since they returned? 

If that’s what they meant it to be, she feels gratefulness for it well up in her. Evidently, she has a chance to make things right. But wait -

She realizes what has been missing.

What was their name, again? With all the time she spent keeping them out of her mind, when it came to it she couldn’t seem to get a grasp of their name.

What she remembers clearly though, is rain, lotuses, the dawn. Them searching for a place to belong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to have a fic where somehow I fit all the meaning of protag's both names in there, (because I am Deeply In Love with both names) therefore avoiding using an actual name. 
> 
> what i got from people online was Amamiya has the characters for "rain" and "palace", Ren is "lotus" which symbolizes cleansing
> 
> Kurusu is a "vessel" and Akira "sunrise", altogether someone interpreted it as "bringer of light to the den"
> 
> Both names for protag generally mean clearing up misunderstandings and illusions. As he brings light to brighten the darkness and rain to wash away lies. Also as a symbol for new beginnings. That's how I interpreted them in the end, because I am now REALLY in love with what his name means. And how it fits him so well ughghuhguh
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated!


	3. in the club

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> legal. in college. something.

Ren Amamiya has on his favorite pair of tights. Dark, but sheer enough to give glimpse of the panties he wore underneath when he bent over. The material was sleek, smooth, and molded perfectly to his long legs, hinting at the luscious thighs underneath.

Paired with his black heeled boots, people's gazes always traveled from the bottom up. Roving over the shapely calves, and thighs, gracing over the round of his ass and elegant hips like a caress.

If they manage to travel up beyond that point, their hungry gazes see a halter top, also black, with a deep V providing a lovely view of his chest. The high collar hugs his neck snugly. The smooth skin of his upper back is exposed. It flares out at the bottom like a very short skirt, not covering up much at all.

Once the gaze rounds his exposed shoulders, it lights upon his muscled, lean arms, attractive in hinting at the power in his body.

Topped off with his large, winged eyes, perfect coverage to make his skin look satin smooth, and glistening red lips.

Ren relishes in the eyes on him tonight. He's been wanting to put on a _show_ , and he will get his fill.

It's long enough into the evening that he's forgotten the number of partners he's had already. Ann and Yusuke are somewhere else in the club. It’s dark, bodies pressed together in the crowd moving as one. The air hot and muggy.

Someone steps up to press up behind him as he’s gyrating his hips to the beat, large hands alighting on them. He smiles and indulgently leans back against a wide, muscular chest. Ren stretches his arms up behind them around their neck. Grinning, Ren grinds his ass against their crotch. The hands on his hips tighten, flexing with each push, Ren feels a hard on pressing into his ass and he purrs. The man groans huskily in his ear.

“Come on pretty boy, turn around…” A hot breath in his ear, and when he tilts his head to the side, lips mouth over his neck. Tingles travel through his body at the touch. A few more seconds of this, then the hands turn him around and a hot mouth envelopes his. The two of them stop dancing completely as a tongue licks into his mouth. Tonguefucking him. Lips slide against each other sensually and those large, warm hands grope his asscheeks. They eventually pull away from each other slowly, Ren looks up at the man with half-lidded eyes, a slow smile spreading on his face.

Pressing the long line of his body languidly against the man’s one last time, Ren leans up to his ear to say, “Thanks.” With a quick kiss on his cheek, before Ren pulls away and is lost to the crowd.

He does not have to spend long looking for someone else. Almost immediately Ren finds himself caught up with another person in dance, someone closer to his own build, androgynous.

They stay at arm's length from each other, but always facing each other. They spin around and around, bodies rolling, arms sometimes draping across a shoulder, other times bending to articulate cradling a head in an elbow. Fingers caress faces. Together they hit every beat in the song, heads leaning back, hips thrusting fast and dirty with the heavy bass. They’re quick, weaving in and around each other.

In the darkness of the club, where the only lights are the multi colored strobe lights, they only catch glimpses of their partner. Eyes flashing in the gloom, grins cutting their faces in half, laughter exchanged in delight.

Ren is at the height of ecstasy.

So the night goes on, people attracted to him irresistibly. Even when Ren is alone he is still dances, grooving and bopping. The shapes his body makes force people to stand still and watch. Long lines, sharp angles, and soft curves all are a part of him in the dark, pulsating club.

Their gaze makes him bolder, he spreads his legs wide for them, long fingers caressing his inner thighs. For the men sitting down on the couches he boldly bends down in half with his legs in a perfect upside-down V, slowly coming back up. Then, he drops to the floor and bounces like he was on a cock. Getting up, he stretches his body up, moving slow and sensual, running his fingers up his neck and through his sweaty hair. He tilts his head back in a way that he knows highlights his jawline in the pink and purple lights, glistening with dampness. The _definition_ of sultry.

Ren dances with countless people, never keeping the same partner for long. Grinds his ass against countless crotches, teasing them of what his body is capable of even if they will never be able to have him.

All of the lust, the energy in the room, this is what he needs sometimes. To let go and let his body move with the current. To let other people feed off his same energy and abandoned self, altogether, for one charged, bewitching night. At times Ren stops, closes his eyes to just revel in it all.

In the end, Ann grabs him for herself. She pulls him close by the arm before he spins away again to lean their sweaty foreheads together. Her eyes are a bright blue even in the dark.

“Ren!” She laughs, “You look like you’re having tons of fun, babe.”

Ren closes his eyes to focus on all the emotions running through him. “Yeah,” he pants. He grins. “We had a good turnout tonight.”

Ann shakes him a bit with the arms she has around his waist. “Yeah! And a certain someone turned it up even more with all the boners he was giving out for free.” She giggles against him as he tugs lightly on one of her pigtails.

“How have you and Yusuke been doing?” He asks, as they sway slowly together, it’s getting late enough that the crowd is starting to thin out.

“He’s been completely occupied drawing. I’m sure he filled at least half of his book with just sketches of you though.”

Ren slumps over her, “Thanks for coming out with me, I think...I let enough of my hoe side out for tonight.”

Ann chortles in his ear, Ren smiles reflexively, relaxed. “Don’t worry,” She winks saucily, “I got bunches of numbers from cute girls and guys.”

“Besides….” She pulls back to look at him from head to toe, “It’s always a treat to see you feeling yourself up, Ren.”

He groans and goes to hide his face in her hair. “Annnnn, let’s go home, I’m sobering up and would prefer if no one remembers what I did tonight.”

She laughs again and delightfully skips away, “Don’t worry, I got at least ten minutes of it on camera~” She waves her phone at him.

Ren yells after her and gives chase, tired and wobbling in his heels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i listened to this a lot while writing. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aH6RG74n5Ks
> 
> imagine ren dancing like this, especially the girl in the second group oh my goddddd https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UZZsWDMx1Ws
> 
> edit: oops wrong link the first time, alright one last video, the top could be like the one worn here, but with the changes to the upper part as mentioned. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B6Y-WsgpzlQ dayumm that ass
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated!


	4. you can now quick travel to the cat café

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> akira and morgana go to a cat cafe so akira can express all of his love for cats and be a soft boy, just a soft and happy scene

Akira is rolling around on the floor. Morgana cannot believe this.

In the past hour, Morgana face-palmed so much it feels like he’ll be doing it for the rest of his existence. As a reaction to literally everything that happens from then on.

It all started when Akira became comfortable enough with him to say that he _really_ likes cats and would _really_ like to be able to cuddle them to his heart’s content now that he’s in Tokyo where _all the cat cafés are_.

Morgana agreed because he was not about to let Akira snuggle _him_ , so after some research, they arrive in Akihabara to go to one of the larger café establishments.

Akira snuck Morgana in with his bag. Now he watches as Akira proceeds to lose his mind over fluffy animals. The cats sometimes come by to sniff at Morgana, but lose interest quickly. Having a cursory nose bump with Morgana seems sufficient for them.

Akira had _started out_ seated in a chair like a normal person. Then a cream colored fluffball leapt onto his lap and hunkered down. But, Akira wanted to pet _all_ of the kitties. He leaned down to pet and pet and lower and lower he went until he was laid out on the floor, only at the risk of disturbing Creampoof, who soon found a nice spot for a nap again. At least there is a carpet, and Akira brought some pillows with him on his descent. Creampoof on his back, Tuxedo Mask on his head, and his hand holding a toy waving around for the small Spots to chase after, Akira somehow keeps attracting the mounds of fur effortlessly. Soon he might be completely obscured.

Taking his fate into his own hands before he is lost in cat-body heaven forever, he rolls over, dislodging several purring cats in a way Morgana was very familiar with, having gotten used to sleeping on Akira before Akira’s subconscious recognized that Morgana will be on top of him and therefore _he will not move from the position he falls asleep in during the whole night in consideration for his furry friend_. Akira takes hold of a small floofy white friend with tan points and holds them above him, _now making unintelligent noises_ _at it_ that Morgana could not comprehend. Are - are those noises the same ones people make at babies!?!

He squeezes the little paws and cooes, the little cat letting him, simply mewing at him from its perch.

"Well aren't you cutest little guy ever, I love you so much."

"You're so handsome, your paws are so soft I could hold them forever..."

"Uwahh, I'm in heaven, I could die..."

So shameless!

Morgana groans a bit, he never heard Akira sound like this before...

Akira's murmuring and squealing aside, the cats grow familiar with him oddly quick. At most, the more wary ones stay a distance away but still watch the whole scene, and would come to sniff fingers and let Akira pet them if he reaches out to them. Some lie next to him and promptly fall asleep, curled up like half-moons or tightly wrapped wonton dumplings.

Morgana does not mind these cats getting all over him because _Morgana is not a cat_. He also admits that Akira is very comfy. Akira’s warm, considerate of other people’s space, and he is calming. Morgana did not doubt for a moment that cats would love him because, well, he may not be a cat, but he’s glad that he looks like creatures that are obviously very intelligent to be able to sense Akira's aura! Or maybe they sense he is their brethren, Akira is extremely cat-like himself.

Cats come by to rub against his ankles and face and neck, like some sort of human catnip. He scratches under their chins, behind their ears, and smooths a hand down their backs as they go by and they preen and stretch under his touch. Akira is smiling big and wide, a sparkle in his eyes visible from behind his glasses that looks less like the devious look he gets when he finds valuable loot and more of… pure joy. It is a look Morgana does not see on him often, and if a bit overwhelming, it’s nice. After all the trouble Akira has been put through, Morgana thinks that he deserves all of the happinesses that comes his way.

On the Sunday afternoon, Akira lies flat out on the cafe floor buried in feline affection. The soft sunlight coming through the windows casts everything in a dreamy, yellow, ambience. Combined with the murmur of the café downstairs, Morgana is getting sleepy. Morgana can hear Akira’s laughter, and the timbre of his voice as he speaks to the cats. He can't see Akira’s face but from the mirth in his voice he imagines Akira's eyes crinkling and curving up with smiles. His hair is easy to spot in the pile of fluff of a floor, curly and messy and sleek black, getting even more messy with the way he lets them bat at it.

That’s the last thing Morgana sees before his blue eyes slip close. Falling asleep as he so often does in Leblanc with Akira. What a nice afternoon.

* * *

Much later, when Akira is covered in cat fur and they are leaving,

"Morgana," Akira murmurs, "my Happiness stat went up."

"Is that even a thing?!"

"'Course it is," Akira puts a hand on his chin in faux-contemplation, "it just means we'll have to come back more often."

If they have time, then.

"Get something to eat next time, at least, geez."

Akira's chuckles trail behind them all the way home.

"You'll always be the number one cat-look-alike in my heart, Morgana." 

"Hmph, I wasn't worried."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the other customers found this whole scene adorable and took many pictures of the "cat cafe boy" for the internet (and fell in love with Akira a little for it)
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated!


	5. a lovely trickster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> who doesn't love seeing and reading about akiren wearing dresses and cute stuff! we need more i say!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> open the links in new tabs to see the outfits (don't left click)

While Ren wanders the underground mall, wondering what gift to buy for Ann, his eye catches on a long, shimmering piece, dark. It doesn’t look like it’ll fit anyone he knows, but it might -

It’ll look good on him. He can tell, just like he knew the sakura fan would look good in Hifumi’s hand, raised to conceal her smile.

When he tries it on in Leblanc, he feels exactly how he wants. Brave, beautiful, and bodacious, defying expectations.

Ren wants to share it with the thieves.

***

Ryuji thinks they are absolutely obnoxious, but he always takes the pictures for them.

Ann in her red letterman jacket outfit, bold colors complimenting the curves in her pixie face and wavy hair.

[Ren](https://cdna.lystit.com/photos/lanecrawford/e0f821e2/opening-ceremony-LIGHT-GREY-MULTI-Oc-Leather-Sleeve-Classic-Varsity-Jacket.jpeg) is in muted colors, but nonetheless stunning. Grey and black letterman jacket, black and white graphic tee underneath, and a black drawstring skirt with short black boots.

Together they are the perfect picture of college student fashion.

“Ren, turn almost perpendicular to the camera, but not all the way. Ann lean on his shoulder. Yeah, yeah! Those slouches are perfect, hold on.”

“This is the play-with-your-hair shot, both of you, go for it!”

Ren smirks, Ann winks, they look over their shoulders like they're judging _someone else’s_ photoshoot, so the eye is drawn to the line of their jaw, their necks leading down into the collars of their jackets. Their eyes smolder and sparkle at Ryuji from the top of their fake, wide-framed glasses.

Morgana joins in and to the camera’s eye he is nothing more than the world's most well-mannered photogenic cat.

“Hey it’s AnnRen! When’s the next photos going up guys?” Another kid on campus shouts up the green at them.

“Shuddup! They’ll go up whenever I’m done editing them! Now you better scram before I get photos of me beating your ass instead!” All the while still behind the DSLR camera snapping away.

Perfect to catch Ann and Ren when laughter overtakes them, howling and struggling to stay upright as they clutch onto each other and their stomachs. Morgana hanging onto Ren’s shoulder for dear life.

Ryuji’s “intense mode” is a gift to them all. He can’t help but agree when he gets photos of his best friends like this. Grinning wide himself.

_I’ll follow you guys to the ends of the earth._

 ***

Yusuke barely gave it any thought before he decided, _I’ll go to Crossroads tonight._

A change of scenery is a good stimulant, whether it be a constant flow of people or a new location.

Ren’s descriptions of the bar intrigued him. Moody, but cozy, inviting lowered guards and shared secrets.

Yusuke makes sure he has his keys, pen, sketchbook, and cellphone on his person. Then out he ventures into the nightscape.

Stepping inside the bar was like stepping into a syrupy, viscid dream. It makes Yusuke want to daydream here, letting the sights and sounds flow through his mind unimpeded; imagination running free on fantastical grounds. It’s quite amazing the number of revelations he’s had when just on the cusp of sleep.

Ren is behind the counter, stately, he greets Yusuke with velvet red lips, figure cast in the same magenta light as the rest of the bar.

The shape of his silhouette is distinctly different this evening, notes Yusuke. Tonight -

Flowers weave through his hair, spilling down his shoulder, a crimson gerbera bursts right at the curve of his jaw. Absolutely, completely, resplendent in a red kimono. Yusuke wishes to discern the exact shade, but he cannot in this lighting - black lace peeks out under the nagajuban, nails painted a dark shade, his body wrapped in flowing fabric. The only parts exposed are his face, and his hands when he serves alcohol to customers, wrist an elegant, pale bridge leading to -

Yusuke strides forward to hold those hands in his own, “There you are, my muse.” He is ice hot passion. Expressive eyes burning in his fervor. “I have been searching for you all along. Please! Be my model.”

One hand pulls away to primly cover a pleased laugh.

“Well, I doubt you can afford me, boy. But,”

Long lashes flutter flirtatiously, “If your painting satisfies me, I may just allow you to capture my visage free of charge.” The voice throaty and indulgent, velvet just like those lips.

All of this is [Ren](https://twitter.com/emusansansansan/status/1026475597646577666).

Ren, who indulges Yusuke.

Ren, who stops the play-act, with a genuine smile.

“Yusuke, sit, please. I guess it’s your lucky night that you came in when I’m all dressed up.” A smaller smile. “Why don’t you have a sake, and something to eat if you haven’t had, it’ll be on me.” The last part Ren whispers close, across the bar counter, and Yusuke imagines, red lips close to the ear, often seen in those romantic movies.

“That would be lovely, Ren, thank you.”

Ren’s hands are agile, just like at Leblanc, as he pulls out a bottle and cup. Meticulous while pouring.

Yusuke looks around, peers at the backroom.

“It is relaxing here.”

“Yeah, take your time. I’ll be free to talk in a bit.”

Ren puts his own hand lightly on top of Yusuke’s. Soft as a feather’s touch.

“And I’m glad you’re here tonight, Yusuke. I haven’t seen you in awhile.”

With a last twinkle in the eye, he goes to attend to another customer.

Yusuke is entranced with how he moves differently here than anywhere else. He is showy, dignified, speaking in delicate tones graced with sympathetic smiles. It...is not act, not when it is a side of Ren that blossoms in the shadows. Another vital facet of the living, breathing Ren.

Yusuke perches in his chair, sips his drink from the little cup. Sketching silhouettes onto paper, but not too much, unable to see that well in the dim light.

It will be another long night, but here, with his chosen company, it’s a night he savors.

When Ren wears the kimono for him during the day, the red is the shade of rose and wine.

***

Makoto hates going to department parties. They are full of men insinuating things they have no business in, trying to get ribs in about _her role and her rightful place._

So to this one, she arm wrestles Ren into joining her, and they’re going to wear what _they_ want, even if it means they splurge a little on matching jewelry. Ren’s idea.

[Ren](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Di_l9roUwAIpMYF.jpg) dons a slim, black dress. A see-through lace front the defining feature, a black band to cover the chest for modesty, and flowing sleeves.

Makoto is also clad in black, but pants with a wider leg, a textured camisole, and a suit jacket with her arms kept out of the sleeves. She feels good in it, like she can sweep the jacket off her shoulders and be ready to _fuck. someone. up._ in an instance. If needed to, of course.

The soft, sharp eyes Ren turns to her because he knows that look in her eyes tell her, it’s a firm no.

Don’t worry, Ren. Makoto can dream dreams steeped in retribution, especially when she's around these people.

She has his hand in the crook of her elbow and they stride into the hall, well, Ren sashays, but anyway.

Eyes turn to them, mouths gape, whispers abound. All night, few dare approach them. Them and their dual vision of dark and lovely, dangerous and luxurious.

When the dances are held, Makoto relishes in bending low with her hand out to Ren, other arm held to the small of her back, one leg crossed behind the other.

“Will you let me have this dance, my dear Joker?” Her bright, red eyes flash up at him. A challenge, and solidarity in their fight.

Ren brightens prettily, “Why yes you may, Queen.” All loftiness. His hand settles in hers, and they step out on center floor together.

They have fun, they have more fun in the statement they make together. Leaving those old men wondering just who is the prince and who is the princess.

Partners in crime, wanting to change the world.

Makoto imagines dancing like this with the woman she loves one day. One day, one day, she promises to herself, she will make that happen.

***

Haru sits with her legs folded up under her on the picnic blanket. Hands delicately holding a teacup and it's respective saucer, without, Ren notes with disappointment, her pinky out.

Well, Ren and Futaba _will_ have _their_ pinkies out, thank you very much. It’s silly, and that's exactly why they do it.

The both of them also squint at the sun in contemplation. Sitting still just, outside, having a picnic was a little departed from the realm of their typical day. Wearing poofy, frilly dresses while doing so was even further out, possibly breaching the outer atmosphere of the earth.

Well, Futaba thinks, they look nice at least. Haru had good taste in picking out their dresses for them, when she insisted she wanted a good old-fashioned lolita tea party. They’re all counterpoints to each other in color palette, [Ren](https://www.lolitawardrobe.com/u_file/1702/photo/6a96e17342.jpg) in black, dark blue, and pinks, [Haru](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/23/55/74/2355745b5a694ef741c48402bdbe4268.jpg) in pink, white, and brown, and [Futaba](https://www-s.mlo.me/uplo/v/tb2017/tb201706/tb20170620/55929431-e142-40f5-ba06-259f448dc4f2.jpg) in complete black. Her orange hair, styled into princess curls, is a bright contrast to her gothic dress.

The spread before them consists of sandwiches and little plates of Leblanc curry.

“Are you two having fun? It’s so nice being able to wear lolita with friends.”

“Y-yeah! I’ve seen so much lolita stuff online, but I never thought I’ll try it one day...” Futaba is understandably a bit nervous, fiddling with the hem of her dress, they _are_ drawing a lot attention with their set up.

“Oh, Futaba-chan, I’ve always had a feeling you would look good in gothic style, especially after seeing you in those black boots…” Haru has a gleam in her eyes as she speaks, leaning toward Futaba.

Futaba squeaks a little, but squeezes out, “Thank you, Haru, for getting me this dress, I love it.”

“No problem, Futaba-chan! We could all do this again, there’s just something about the preparation going into putting on a coordinate that I love so much, how elaborate it is, and all the effort...” Haru looks dreamily into the distance from under her sunhat, looking exactly like a wistful princess who would never gilgamesh axe anything to death.

Ren can _feel_ the effort for sure. He has a giant bow and hair clips in his hair, and plenty of makeup applied by that princess hand.

He takes a bite of curry. It’s nice.

“Thanks for picking out a dress with cats for me, Haru, it’s perfect.” He twiddles with his bangs, puts down his cute plate. “But…”

He looks directly into the camera set up several feet away from them, “Did we really have to film us eating though?”

“We look so cute! I _had_ to get it on film!” Haru enthuses, “Like those calming videos online of people just sitting in a cafe eating?”

“Right…” He bites a sandwich, swallows, and continues, “So we could film us doing anything in these dresses?”

“Of course, what do you have in mind?”

“Futaba,” Ren says.

“What is it, bro.”

“Please don’t. Anyways,” He pushes his glasses up for that dramatic effect. “Let’s film _that._ ”

“Film wha-, wait, oh, oooooohhhhh,” Futaba’s eyes grow with glee with each second of 'oh'. She pushes up her own spectacles, matching spectacularly with her wicked toothy grin.

“Are you talking about that [dab](https://gfycat.com/gifs/detail/alertpalatableaardwolf)?!”

“Yes.”

“Oh my! What is that? It sounds fun!”

Ren deadpans, “It’s amazing.”

“And cringey,” Futaba interjects, “But let’s go, let’s go, we’ll be awesome!”

So they get pictures of them posing cutely and primly in their frilly dresses, but also the dabs, and Featherman poses. Right by the Tokyo Bay side, where so many of the odorite record their dances.

People stop to look at them a lot, but even Futaba is able to relax, because these sort of things are much easier with friends.

***

Goro felt...nervous. He knew what was coming, but no amount of running through the line of events in his head could calm him.

His hands tremble faintly and he clasps them together tight. Goro hopes he can see Ren soon. Digging his nail into the side of his finger for that bit of pain is distracting, if a bad habit. The ache it brings matches the one in his heart right now for Ren. 

Ren,

He wants to see him. To see his smile. 

He shouldn’t have let him convince him to put so much meaning behind this. It’s just clothes, a symbolic gesture, but now Goro yearns for it. A material thing, an event to serve as a benchmark for happier times.

Remember Ren’s voice. It will be alright. Deep breaths.

The door clicks open in the silence like a slap to Goro’s face. His eyes snap to the opening so fast he feels dizzy. A figure walks into the room -

Goro feels his breath leave his body in one great sweep. Goro Akechi has just, departed this plane of existence, most definitely.

Especially when Goro’s mind fights to apprehend the white lace pressed against that body he knows so well, wreathing waist and arms lovingly. Blending seamlessly into a long skirt that reaches the floor. Curving over modest pectoral muscles. Leading to bare skin, collarbones and shoulders, and a lovely neck he longs to press his face into; knowing it to be warm and smooth, like late evening sunlight.

Even when Goro feels overwhelmed, those luminous, gray eyes never fail to anchor him back to Ren. They reach into his soul to yank him to Ren, damning him to fraternize with a devil in heaven’s wrappings. A devil with the most alluring cupid’s bow. Walking towards him, wreathed in light. Calling to him.

For Goro.

Ren Amamiya in a [wedding dress](https://n.nordstrommedia.com/ImageGallery/store/product/Zoom/6/_101451846.jpg).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaand it's the end! hope everybody had fun, leave comments about your favorite part, your least favorite part, feedback, I'll be very grateful.
> 
> lots of love to everybody that dropped by and gave this a chance! thank you. i had fun writing this throughout the summer. kudos are appreciated!
> 
> i'm on twitter [@brynhildvelvet](https://twitter.com/brynhildvelvet) :3


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